by Dixon, Ruby
“But,” Thrand begins, clearly confused.
I stop in my tracks, and my annoyance flares when he does, too. There is no malice in his gaze, just puzzlement, as if I am an old gladiator that has suddenly shown a repertoire of new moves. “Thrand. We separated last night. You stayed with the others on the beach. Why is that?”
His brows furrow together. “I wished to play the kissing game. I wanted to mouth-mate a female.”
“One in particular?”
Thrand’s expression grows cagey. “Perhaps.”
“I did not want to play the game,” I explain to him. “The only female I wish to kiss is Angie.”
“I understand that,” he says patiently, as if I am making perfect sense. “We are dedicated to her. We—”
“But you kissed other females, did you not?” I continue, interrupting. When his mouth firms into an angry line, I continue. “I want no female but Angie. When I think of kissing another female, my spirit sickens. When I think of protecting her, I feel complete. Like I am where I should be. How do you feel when you see me with Angie?”
“I feel the same—”
“No,” I snap. “You do not. Think for yourself, Thrand. How do you feel when you see me with Angie?”
He stares at me for a long moment, as if it never occurred to him that we might think differently. “Competitive,” he admits after a long, quiet moment. “Like I should be there, at her side, taking care of her better than you.”
“Do you know how I feel when I see you with her?” I continue.
He shrugs.
“I want to throw you to the ground in anger. I want to push you aside because you dare to look at her. I do not feel like a’ani when I see you with her. I do not want her to think of us as the same. I want to be Vordis. I want to be the only one she sees. Do you understand?”
Thrand stares at me. “You are jealous.”
“I am,” I admit grimly.
“But…we cannot be jealous. We are a’ani—”
“But I am jealous,” I tell him. “And if we thought the same, you would be, too.”
“This makes no sense,” Thrand protests. “We are—”
“I know what we are,” I tell him irritably, and storm away. Thrand needs to realize that we do not have to be tethered together as one. We can be our own people.
This world is a fresh start for all of us.
10
ANGIE
My water breaks during a tribal gathering. It’s only been a day, maybe two, since Vordis started sleeping in my furs to keep me warm and the world changes on me again. This planet will not cut me a break, it seems.
But babies are nothing new to these people. The moment I declare my water breaking, Liz and Harlow rush me away from the crowd—well, as fast as three pregnant women can go—and someone grabs Veronica. I’m taken back to my cave and undressed except for a tunic to cover my breasts and make me feel less self-conscious. A fur is tossed over my hips as I sit down on the floor and I notice my blankets have been swapped out for old, stiff hides that are covered with stains. “Feel free to bleed all over these,” Liz says cheerily.
I just clutch her arm, shocked. “I’m going to bleed?”
“Hopefully not?”
I whimper.
Liz’s eyebrows go up. “Oh, honey. What do you know about childbirth?”
“Nothing!” I shriek as a hard contraction rips through my belly. “Why would I know anything about childbirth? I wasn’t planning on having kids for a long time!”
“Well, there might not be a lot of blood if there isn’t much tearing,” Liz begins, and Harlow gives her a horrified look. “What? Okay. Let’s pretend like you won’t bleed and everything will go as normal. You’re about to have a cascade of gross bodily fluids happen.” She pats my arm. “Lucky for you, if you poop on the blankets, we promise not to laugh…much.”
I stare at her, open-mouthed, and then burst into tears.
“Liz, I think your bedside humor might not be what Angie wants right now,” Harlow says gently.
“Oh, come on!” Liz protests. “I made Claire laugh all through her last birth with that poop joke.” She puts her hands in the air. “Fine, why don’t I get some hot water?”
“That sounds wonderful,” Harlow agrees, and helps me onto the floor as Liz leaves. “Just pretend she didn’t say any of that. Liz likes to shock people.”
“Well, I’m shocked all right,” I manage through my tears.
“God, me too,” Veronica says, her mouth hanging open. “This is my first baby, also.”
“Yaaaay,” I give a watery cheer. “We’re all completely new to this.”
Harlow chuckles. “I promise you it’s not that bad. And I’ve done this before. It’s not as dreadful as the movies make it seem.”
“Wasn’t there a J-Lo movie where she died in childbirth?” I ask, panicky.
“Oh, I saw that one!” Veronica nods. “Jersey Girl! Or wait, was there more than one where the mom died in childbirth?” She blanches and shakes her head. “You know what? Let’s just table that thought.”
Harlow makes a humming sound of agreement. She grabs a pillow and helps tuck it under my lower back, her expression utterly calm. “You’ll want to sit until you feel the baby about to come out, and then it’s easier to squat.”
“Squat?” I echo, horrified. “I can’t squat. I can barely stand upright.”
I can tell she’s biting back a laugh. “You’ll want to squat, trust me.” Then she takes my hand in hers and gives it an encouraging squeeze. “You’re not alone in this. I promise. We’ll be right here the entire time.”
Her easy reassurance makes me feel a little better and I relax until the next contraction quickly ripples through my belly. I whimper, because it feels like my entire lower half is staging a revolt.
“So, I’m pretty new to this whole baby thing,” Veronica whispers, leaning in. “Should I be checking for dilation or some crap like that?”
“We’re okay,” Harlow says, smiling. “It might be a while yet. When she feels like squatting, we’ll know the baby’s about to arrive. Until then, we can just relax.” She pats my fingers. “Are you excited?”
“No,” I choke out, wincing as another contraction ripples through me. My pants are gone, but I still feel like I’m all wet down below, and it’s a horrible feeling. All of it’s pretty horrible, actually. I cling to Harlow’s arm. She might be calm, but I’m all panic inside. What if this is a monster baby? What if it’s about to eat its way out of my womb? What if it’s too big and I can’t push it out? Panic spirals through me, and when the next contraction hits, it feels like I can’t breathe. Spots swirl in front of my eyes, and I pant, unable to get enough breath.
“Calm down,” Harlow says in that gentle voice of hers. “Really, Angie. Just calm down.”
“I…I…”
“Angie,” comes a firm voice from just outside my cave’s entrance. I realize belatedly that Veronica’s put up the blocking screen that I never use, protecting us from any onlookers that might want to peep into the cave and gawk at my splayed legs. I know that voice, though. It’s Vordis. “I wish to be at your side,” he calls out.
Both women look at me. Harlow gives my hand a little squeeze, her eyes full of understanding. “Do you want me to send him away? I can get Rukh.”
I consider everything for a moment—how awful I feel, how much pain I’m in and how much I’m sweating, how Liz told me I could probably poop on the floor and bleed everywhere. This is not a sexy moment and I should probably send Vordis away…but I really want him at my side. I feel so safe when he’s around. “I want him here,” I tell them. “Please.”
Before Veronica can get up to move the screen, Vordis pushes his way in. His face is taut with worry for me and he immediately drops to his knees at my side. “Angie. My heart. Tell me what I can do to help.”
His heart?
His heart? My jaw drops in surprise. Oh my goodness. I don’t know what to say. “Just…hold my hand
and tell me everything is going to be all right,” I ask him in a small voice.
“Of course it will,” Vordis says in an utterly calm voice. “You are strong and brave.”
“I don’t feel very strong and brave,” I admit as he sits down next to me. A moment later, he moves closer, and then I realize he’s not sitting down next to me after all, but behind me, so I can lean back against him. It’s thoughtful, because my back is killing me, and the moment he pulls me back against him, I sag backward, letting his strength do all the work.
“You are strong and brave,” he reassures me. “You have been strong and brave ever since you arrived here. No other female could take all that you have been given.” His breath whispers against my ear. “Strength does not always mean fists, my heart. Sometimes it means waking up to endure another day.”
I almost start to cry at that, but another contraction ripples through my belly, distracting me, and I clench his hand and Harlow’s both.
“They’re coming pretty fast together,” Veronica says. “That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”
Harlow nods. “It might not be a long birth.” She hesitates and then looks at me. “Should we be preparing for Thrand to show up, too?”
I stiffen, because I don’t want him here. It’s crowded enough as it is.
“He is not coming,” Vordis tells me. “I insisted he stay by the fire.”
“Oh, okay.” Harlow seems a little puzzled at this.
I’m relieved. I don’t want to deal with him right now. I have enough to focus on. “Vordis, what if my baby’s not human?”
“It will not be human,” he says calmly. “But it will be all right.”
“You don’t know that,” Harlow exclaims. “Don’t tell her that!”
He just smooths my hair back from my sweaty brow and strokes my arm. “I am here,” he murmurs, and I get the impression his words are for me alone. “There is no need to be afraid. I will not let you come to harm.”
Strangely enough, I do feel reassured at his words. It’s like his calm is rubbing off on me, and my panic starts to ebb even as the contractions grow stronger and stronger, moving faster together. Veronica and Harlow take a peek under the fur after a bit.
“Won’t be long now,” Harlow says. “Whenever you’re ready, Angie, you let us know.”
Liz returns with water a short time later and her jarring comments from earlier don’t seem nearly as frightening with Vordis at my side. He doesn’t speak to her—to any of them, really—but continues to touch me, stroking my hair and my face, touching my neck and my arm, and murmuring words of encouragement. He lets me know at every moment that he’s right there, and I don’t feel self-conscious or strange that he’s in the room while I’m giving birth. It seems natural and right. Of course Vordis should be at my side for this. Hasn’t he been at my side for every other moment of this bizarre journey?
My lower half clenches hard, and I groan, shuddering as the need to push starts to come along with increasingly strong contractions. “I need…to squat…now…” I manage to tell the others between puffs of breath.
“Let’s get this done, then,” Harlow says, all cheerfulness. She unrolls a soft, pale fur that looks like velvet and spreads it in her lap, waiting.
Vordis helps me to my feet and, using his arm as an anchor, I squat uncomfortably. I’m just about to ask if I should push or not when the feeling overwhelms me, and I start to push regardless of whether I’m supposed to or not. I bear down, groaning, and Harlow and Veronica and Liz are all saying encouraging things. I don’t hear any of them, though. I only feel Vordis’s arm, hear the low timbre of his voice as he speaks to me. I can’t hear anything from the rushing of blood in my ears, though, as my body forces the child out.
With an immense push, I can feel something move. I groan hard, and then Harlow’s there, catching something slippery that comes out from between my thighs. “Here we go,” she calls out happily, and I fall back, exhausted and dizzy from all the pushing. Vordis has me, of course, and gently lowers me to the ground. He lifts me up and tucks pillows behind me so I can recline comfortably, and brushes tendrils of hair off of my sweaty skin.
“You did well,” he murmurs, his eyes full of pride, and I smile up at him, weak and exhausted. It’s done.
An infant’s cry cuts through the air of the tent, and I realize with astonishment that the infant crying is my baby.
I’m a mother. Oh my god.
“She’s stunning,” Liz declares. “Holy fuck, what a pretty baby.”
“She is beautiful,” Harlow agrees, and hands me my child, the umbilical cord still attached.
11
ANGIE
She’s the most beautiful, perfect, tiny baby I’ve ever seen. I stare down at the child in my arms, unable to believe that she came from me. I’ve seen newborn babies that look squished and wrinkled, but this one is gorgeous. Her bones are delicate, her cheeks full and rounded, and her closed eyes are large and slightly tilted. Long, pointed ears are folded back against an absolute wealth of silvery-purple hair that looks like wet corn silk. Her nose is tiny, her mouth a little rosebud, and her skin is a bright, solid red.
She’s a clone.
I take one little hand, and as her tiny fingers curl around mine, I see that she’s got the teensiest little webs between her fingers. I imagine they’re between her toes, too.
“She’s not human,” I breathe out, both startled and full of wonder at this little creature holding onto me.
“I noticed,” Liz says. “Doesn’t mean she’s not utterly divine.”
She really is. As I gaze down at her, the little rosebud mouth works, and she smacks her lips. Oh. “Should I feed her?”
“Did you want someone else to?”
“No, of course not. She’s mine.” I feel a stunning surge of possessiveness and clutch her close to me. My tunic doesn’t have ties in the front, so I have to pull it up to my neck, exposing my breasts. I don’t care if everyone sees every inch of me; the only thing that matters right now is feeding my baby. My love. My precious, perfect girl.
I feel guilty for every worried thought I’ve had since waking up and discovering I’m pregnant. Every stab of resentment, every bit of envy, every anxious moment is gone in an instant. Of course she’s beautiful. Of course she’s delicate and lovely and so ethereal it makes my heart hurt to look at her.
“Did you think of a name?” Harlow asks.
Oh god, a name. Of course I haven’t thought of a name. I haven’t thought beyond the actual birth itself, because I was so worried and convinced I’d be giving birth to a monstrosity. She’s as far as you can get from such a thing, though. She’s just…perfect. “No, not yet,” I admit. I’m not prepared to be a mother, not really.
But looking down at this gorgeous little face, I’m going to give it a try.
When her mouth works again, I put her to my breast and she latches on immediately, milk dribbling down the sides of her mouth as she starts to nurse. It’s an odd sensation, but I just feel like laughing and crying all at once. I’m so happy.
I’m so…relieved.
“I hate to be the party pooper,” Liz says. “But we should cut that cord and you’re probably going to have the afterbirth soon.”
“Sure,” I breathe, and turn to look at Vordis. “You don’t have to see this part.”
“I am not leaving,” he tells me. “No matter how bad it gets.”
There’s more to be done, and the next part isn’t glamorous in the slightest, but it’s just another part of giving birth, and with my beautiful baby nearby, it doesn’t seem that bad. Once the baby’s done nursing, Harlow gives her a quick bath, and then her skin looks even more red than before. It’s a startling contrast between the silvery down on her head. She wails, and when they hand her back to me, her eyes open and she gazes at me, full of wonder. Or gas. Or something. Whatever it is, I’m entranced. Her eyes are the same pale, pretty silver-purple as her hair and when she blinks, the pupils contract and for a moment, her
eyes look like a cat’s. It reminds me just now very not human she is.
Then the others depart, slipping away one by one.
“We’ll bring some extra blankets and butt wraps you can use for diapers,” Liz says just before she leaves. “And if you need anything else, we’re just a short scream away.”
“I think I’m okay,” I tell them, smiling. The baby’s holding onto my finger again and I just want to cuddle her forever and stare down at her. “Thank you, guys. I mean it.” They’ve cleaned up my cave and given me fresh clothes and blankets, and there’s food and water nearby. They’ve done everything, and all I had to do was give birth. I’m lucky to be stranded with such wonderful people.
Liz just smiles. “Babies are a regular thing around here. You’ll see.” Then she leaves, and it’s just me and Vordis, who waits nearby, watching me as I lie in the furs with my baby cradled to my breast.
His expression is impossible to read, so I don’t say anything. I just gaze down at the little one in my arms, utterly fascinated. She’s going to need a special name, I decide. No “Angie” for her. But what? “I never thought of a name,” I admit softly to Vordis. “I didn’t think that far ahead.”
“You have been worried.” His tone is calm, even. “Do you need anything?”
“I’m okay.”
“Do you want me to stay?”
I glance over at him, rubbing the baby’s tiny red fingers with the pad of my thumb. “I have questions.”
He inclines his head. “I thought you might. Ask, then. I will tell you what I know.”
“She’s a clone, isn’t she?” My little love smacks her lips as if agreeing. No crying, which is interesting. I’m sure she’ll cry soon.
“Yes. The red skin is a genetic marker to let others know that she is a clone. It is mandated by law. All clones have red skin, no matter their race.”
“Do you know what race she is?”
He hesitates, then rubs his chin. “I have not seen her kind before, but if I had to guess, she is Qura’aki. I have heard of them, but I have never seen one in the flesh.”
